Every Good Boy Does Fine Always

This one was hard. And I cried the whole time I wrote it. I have an ability to put myself into time and place and feeling -- and drive down that emotional coastal highway. And I tremble, and I shake, and write through my tears.

And then, when I'm done, I resume my normal cruising altitude and don't really think about it much. Because I'm whole now--or mostly so. And I stopped caring about my past and I'm only looking forward.

This one is delicate and I wondered if I should post it. But Mr. W's secret isn't mine. And it was forced on me without age-18 consent. So I have no problem posting this and possibly outing him.

In middle school

choir was one thing that I loved

and enjoyed

and took meaning from

and that uptight choir director

lined us up

in front of everyone

because he was pissed off that some of the boys weren’t respecting him

so he set up the firing squad for all the us

and said if the notes weren’t perfect

he would show us the door

he shot my trembling voice down

picked me and kicked me

out

took the music away from me

and my voice

became even more timid

sorry Mike B that I didn’t hunt or fish or like trucks

or believe in the cult you were sucked into

when you saw that accident at your mom’s house

and while you sang

practiced that guitar you’d never learn to play

how nice would it have been

to perhaps sing together

that would have made our relationship better

instead bitter

so when we moved

I was so happy to join the choir

where my new best friend was a star

in my new school

in the park

by the forest

a place to belong

the great one was his own tyrant

getting the most from us that he could

we were a damn good reflection of his talent

and passion

even if he screamed now and then

and slammed the piano

we would do anything to make him happy

my voice was good

but not great

punctuated by the previously mentioned firing squad

because singing solo

always made me nervous

and I didn’t want to get shot down again

I completely failing the audition for the elite

practicing piano man over and over

without a piano

I mumbled and stammered

again trembled

in front of everyone

feeling the white hot pain of embarrassment

and self humiliation

at my complete performance failure

I was surprised later that week

when you called my name

the last one called

as one of those who made it

to the surprise of everyone

including me

I saw the knowing glances

how did he make it in?

and while glad I did

I knew that I did not deserve it

you let me in because you wanted me there

someone better left behind

licking that wound even today?

my therapist told me

in my first session

that I was always an outsider

looking in

with no one to play with

across seven schools, two continents,

and apartments that had seen better days

In a part of town I am nervous to go to

when I take my children to see how good their life is

And he said I did what I did because I wanted to belong

going to church

hiding myself

not accepting myself

I wanted to belong

to something

to someone

my mother loved me

and loves me still

as I do her

but she could not be there

catering to the soul draining helpless lich

the previously mentioned Mike B

who only cared about planting those fucking trees

I wonder how much better our lives would have been

had she kissed David while I was looking down

from my second story window in 4G

and taken the path of her happiness

instead of caving to the whines of a craven man

so when you made your jokes

and reigned your terror

I wanted to be around you

given how shitty my fathers step and absent were

you were the first man

I had ever met who had passion

I liked the innuendos spoken in that choir room

I liked it

a lot

because it is how I think

able to sexualize almost any response

even if I’m being slightly inappropriate

so when you shined your light toward me

it made me feel

something

everywhere

Every

where

down

there

but especially my yearning heart

looking for connection

and warmth

like a child

for his lammy

it never occurred to me that I might

have been born a different way

that was another 40 year delay

only recently realizing I was sort of gay

Guinness World Record holder in denial

having taken all the classes I could

months from graduation

I was your aide

with you

an hour a day

putting music in folders

and other busy work

and endless conversation

in your little office in the corner

amongst the painted history of shows

like Camelot and South Pacific

(Note: I even loved show tunes - and I still didn’t know I was gay)

after 2 1/2 years of wondering

and stuck in my fantasizing mind

you asked me about...

masturbation

and how you loved it

I said yes me too

I’m 17 it’s what we do

and then you asked me

as if asking 'have you ever been to Spain?'

If I had ever put my penis between the mattress to fuck it

after a pause

third trimester pause

I said yes

I had

I’m 17 I’d fuck anything

I’m not ashamed to say it

and we looked at each other

and at that moment

with a tingle in my fingers

and a tingle in my feet

and a tingle in my meat

I would have let you do anything

I wanted you to do anything

every

thing

down

there

both of us paralyzed in that moment

looking to fill the holes in our life

the one not touched my your wife

by a means too taboo to mention

drawing out all other means of attention

three years before nineteen-eighty seven

that moment passed

because I could not have made the first move

so I give you some credit

but I don’t think you wife would approve

over time I remembered you with fondness

pleased to chat with you

and thought about meeting the singing throng

the reunion you organized every few years

a few weeks ago

when my therapist asked if there were any other positive male role models in my life

I remembered you

I said, "oh I had a great teacher"

his name was…

and I paused

I cried

and died

a bit inside

The rhythm of life is indeed a powerful beat

And I left my thought incomplete

realizing I was being groomed

by a man too afraid to accept

who and what he is

and too afraid to take what he wanted

because in that moment

it was his

why is it so hard for me to feel anger to those that harmed me?

why do I still admire them?

today I am no longer an errant minstrel

no longer blithe heart and mind

and I have become whole

no emotional holes left to fill

yet physical ones still

and when I see him today

throwing his supply side jesus bullshit around

and talking about how great God is

and how this country needs to get on its knees to prayer

you know what my mind's eye sees

when I write knees

yes please

I feel sad

but its the adoration of our aging lost young voices

under his care

that makes me angry and upset

because who else sat in my chair

under his lecherous stare?

invited to his sexual dare

I remember that had I gotten on my knees

and accepted your swelling song

shown you the promised land

and made you cry out to your God

I feel pity

because I know you could have been such a better man

if you had only stepped into the light of authenticity

perhaps that callous indifference you have today

wouldn’t be in conflict with the songs on the organ that you play

organ play

so I am now flipping my wings and flying up high

like a bird flying up in the sky

just like you taught us to sing

and I literally feel the rhythm of life

and it is indeed a powerful beat

and I have a new sensation

and my own growing congregation

this month my voice came back

and I sing without caring

and the warble is gone

and I hit notes long lost

and I feel the rhythm of the street

and I can now harmonize as well

the shitty men in my life

no longer have power over me

and this good boy is doing fine

most of the time, but not always